by Msgr. Joseph Calise

IT WAS DURING my first year on the teaching faculty at Cathedral Preparatory Seminary that O.J. Simpson was accused of the murder of his wife, Nicole.

As an explosive news story that involved a former football hero, the students, as well as the rest of the country, were engrossed in the day-to-day developments. There was a genuine excitement in the air when word came that the jury had reached a verdict. The television in almost every classroom was on in anticipation of what was going to happen. Anyone who was around during those days remembers the mixed reactions when the chief juror said, “We, the jury, find the defendant not guilty.”

Of course, public opinion and the media had already found him guilty and painted a picture that made this verdict incomprehensible to many. In the days to follow, students were able to engage in several discussions, not only on the verdict but also on the role of media and the judicial process.

The first reflection was that he was not declared innocent. A “not guilty” verdict simply, but significantly, means that there was not enough evidence to prove someone guilty under the law. From the evidence presented to them, the jury could not agree that he was guilty of the crime regardless of what judgment public opinion had already passed. Newspapers cannot adequately report facial expressions and tones of voice. Even when they profess to print “all” the news, they can actually only print all the news available to them. Evidently, the jurors knew something we did not know.

The same can be applied to the steward in today’s Gospel. At first glance, he is a crook, and everyone seems to know it. However, rather than punish him, his boss commends him for acting prudently. There has to be more to the story – he must know something we do not.

The steward’s job was to protect the owner’s property. His pay would have come from adding something to the bills of his owner’s debtors – very much like marketing today. We go to a store and buy an object for which the storekeeper paid less. The difference between what the store owner paid and what we pay covers his costs and profit. That is simple business.

Realizing that he was about to be let go, the steward knows he has to do something to protect himself. Looking to make friends, he offers deals to his master’s debtors. However, the percentage he cut was very likely the percentage he was used to adding on for himself, and the boss’ profit margin was probably unaffected. It would certainly have been unwise for him to add stealing to whatever other complaints there were against him. Chances are, the owner got his fair payment, and the steward gained a few friends who now had a debt to him.

His soon-to-be former employer commended him for thinking ahead. Rather than simply take his profit and consider it a safety net for his unemployment, he considered to whom he could turn for future help and possibly work. He was not commended for being a good steward but for being a good businessman, who acted shrewdly and protected himself. As far as we know, no laws were broken.

As matter of fact, in explaining the parable, Jesus does not paint a negative picture of him either. His comment is, “Make friends for yourself with dishonest wealth so that when it fails, you will be welcomed into eternal dwellings.” Clearly we want the welcome, but what is the “dishonest wealth” we should befriend? Or, more to the point, how can wealth be dishonest?

In 1964, the Beatles recorded the song, Can’t Buy Me Love. The song reflected that although money can promise many things, it cannot buy love, true love. Television commercials and magazine ads promise us that the right car, the right cologne, the right toothpaste can make us happy and popular. They promise that, indeed, the right “whatever they are selling” can buy us love. There is nothing wrong with having a good car, using good cologne and brushing our teeth as long as we identify these things for what they are and do not believe that they are a ticket to a lasting relationship and a happy ever after. The dishonesty of wealth lies in the promise that it can do what it cannot do. It cannot buy us love, happiness or fulfillment.

Making friends with dishonest wealth is seeing through false promises and keeping material wealth in perspective. Wealth itself is neither good nor bad. It is what we expect from it and do with it that makes it either a means to eternal welcome or a burden to our spirits. Poor people can be selfish with their little, and the wealthy can be philanthropic with their abundance. It is not in the having but in the using that we show who we are. The steward knew not to rely on wealth; he used his to make friends and for this he was commended.[hr]

Readings for the 25th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Amos 8: 4-7

Psalm 113: 1-2, 4-6, 7-8

1 Timothy 2: 1-8

Luke 16: 1-13

Luke 16: 10-13[hr]

Msgr. Joseph Calise is the pastor of Our Lady of Mount Carmel parish, Williamsburg.